Dragon 9:30, a Fereldan Blight
by EilonwyCousland QueenofTragedy
Summary: 2014 Summer Competition piece. "The heroes dream about a previous Age. Are they reliving past lives?" Follows the past lives of Morrigan, Alistair, Maroth Tabris, and Zevran set during Ancient times. Set (mostly) after the First Blight on the brink of a war between the Chasind, Avvar, and Alamarri tribes. Alternate Universe for The Way of Thedas. An AU of an AU. Time-jumping.
1. A Shaman's Vision

A/n: This is a story I wrote for the 2014 Summer Challenge over on the Dragon Age Fanfiction group. The criteria were thus:

Min. Of 10K words

Title: A Ferelden Blight

Must included Alistair/Morrigan/Zevran/Elf Warden of your choice

Genre: Supernatural/Spiritual

Can include other characters, so long as the aforementioned four are the primary characters.

I took me quite awhile, and a one character change, before I was able to come up with an appropriate story idea. This will follow the above four plus Eilonwy Cousland and Nathaniel Howe's past life incarnations. All of the past life characters were created by myself but inspired by names and such I found while research ancient human tribes in Ferelden. It is a spin-off of my main series. You would not need to read that series to understand this, especially as this is considered non-canon in my personal head-canon of events. You can either chose to disregard this story entirely or add it to The Way of Thedas storyline.

_~Sometime during the Ancient Age, after the First Blight.~_

Nadya Zorya held her husband's lifeless body in her arms. She gently smoothed the blonde hair from his head. Nearby, her son wailed loudly, as if he too grieved for the father he would never know.

Nadya slowly got to her feet and wiped the tears from her eyes. Her husband was dead, now. He should have been more careful. Nadya had warned him about making deals with strange entities he met in the Fade. She had been forced to slay him, once she realized that he no longer was the sole occupier of his body.

She picked up her son, Cahir, and rocked him gently. She would tell the boy of his father's foolish mistake. She would make sure her son did not follow the same path. She touched his small red curls and smiled as he gurgled in her arms. She picked up the toy she had made for him from rabbit bones and feathers and twirled it above his head. He looked up at the gentle rattling noise the bones made and cooed. He stretched his pudgy arms upwards, trying to grasp it in his hands.

Now that her son had been calmed, she placed him back in his wooden cradle. She turned around and grimaced at the sight of her home. Blood covered the walls and floor. Her husband's body was caught halfway between human and demon form. His legs were warped and malformed. Huge blisters covered his arms and neck. Lumps of extra flesh twisted around his torso. He was barely recognizable as the man she had married just three years ago.

He had been chosen by her father as her mate and she _had_ cared for him. He had helped her to give life to her son, whom she loved more than anything in this world. He had been kind to her. But he had also been foolish and reckless. She had warned her father, that it would only be a matter of time before he brought his death upon himself.

She dragged the body outside and paused to take a breath. She looked out over the Korcari Wilds and rubbed her brow. She had lived here all her life. As far as she knew, all of the land consisted of swampy wet lands with houses built on stilts and in treetops. But Nadya wouldn't change it for anything. She loved her people and she loved the Korcari Wilds. Though some clans wanted to expand further north, where the Avvar and Alamarri clans lived, Nadya was content to stay in Tombigbee.

She took a deep breath and covered the body with a cloth. Unsure what to do next, Nadya walked back inside. She went to check on her son when a sudden wave of dizziness overtook her. Staggering, she leaned against a wall for balance.

Her vision went blank. All she could see was darkness. A voice, deep but feminine, cackled madly. She was whispering something Nadya couldn't hear but the voice sent chills down her spine.

"Look and see what your future holds, child," it whispered. Nadya struggled to open her eyes, she did not want to see whatever this witch or demon wanted her to see.

But she struggled against a bond that held her too tight. She could not break it, not even with her own magic. She was the daughter of her tribe's eldest and most wise Shaman, but she could not fight this power, whatever it was.

Against her will, she saw a girl. She was short, perhaps dwarven? Her hair was long and black, like a night sky with no stars. She was clad in brown leather armour. She leaned against wall, smiling up at someone. A boy, with long chocolate brown hair and gray eyes. He smiled back at her and said something that made her laugh in response.

"This is who you will be. Time and again you will be called upon to defeat a great evil. Time and again you will die to defeat it. One day, you will rise to defeat your ageless foe, and you will live to see the world after. You will see the breach in the sky, you will see the magic return," the voice continued.

Nadya felt herself slip back into herself as the vision of the girl and the boy faded from view. She was on the ground, slumped against the wall, and Cahir was crying. She shook her head, scared of her vision, and went to tend to her son. She would ask her father what this vision meant. Surely, he would know.


	2. Mirror Image

_~Estimated at around 9:10 Dragon~_

Morrigan looked up at her mother in dismay. Her mirror, her beautiful mirror that she had stolen, lay in shatters. Flemeth glared down at the child, anger radiating from her body. Morrigan's cheek stung from the vicious slap her mother had just delivered.

Morrigan balled her hands into fists. "It was my mirror! I want it back!" she cried.

"You could have been caught. The Templars would not take mercy on you, no matter how you bat your eyelashes at them, Morrigan. It is time for your lessons, come!" Flemeth demanded, grabbing her roughly by the wrist and dragging her along.

Morrigan walked sullenly behind her mother, still thinking about the mirror. She wouldn't have been caught. She was smarted than that. Mother just didn't trust her. She'd show her, one day.

"Sit," Flemeth commanded.

Morrigan sat down on the ground, staring curiously at the fire pit before her. She watched as her mother lit the incense and conjured her mana. Morrigan shivered as her mother's magic touched her.

Flemeth looked down at the girl. "One day, there will a mission I require of you. It is of great importance, Morrigan, so you must pay attention. One day, we will have visitors here. They will not be the normal pestering fools that we dispose of nor will they be Chasind, seeking advice or herbal remedies. Only two of them will matter. A man who holds the blood of dragons in his veins and a woman who is destined to fight the darkspawn for time immemorial. You will journey with them and ensure that all happens according to plan, as you have years beyond your imaginings."

Morrigan furrowed her brow, confused. Her mother was often fond of speaking in riddles, especially to strangers. Usually, Morrigan could figure out the meaning behind Flemeth's cryptic sayings but this time, she was lost.

"Mother, I don't understand," she replied.

Flemeth peered down her nose at the girl. Morrigan's piercing yellow eyes were a reflection of her own. She sighed. "You will fight the darkspawn, Morrigan. You will ensure that an ancient ritual is done, no matter the cost, and that a certain girl will survive. Today, we are doing a ritual for you to view far into the past. Pay attention or there will be punishment," Flemeth warned.

Morrigan sat up a little straighter. She still didn't understand but she would do as her mother told her. In terms of magic, no one knew as much as her mother.

"Now, close your eyes…" Flemeth whispered.

Morrigan closed her eyes and focused on the loud buzzing that was her mother's magic. It sounded like the roaring of dragons and Morrigan felt herself tipping downwards, down and into another time.

She opened her eyes. She was still in the Wilds, she could tell by the familiar scent. The air was muggy. She walked looked down at the ground and momentarily felt dizzy. She remembered the ground feeling much closer, for some reason. Had she dreamt herself as child, recently?

Kartia shook her head, shaking away the strange feeling as she silently stalked the Wilds. She held her bow in one hand, arrow already nocked. She watched as a rabbit sat, nibbling grass. She slowly brought her bow up, aiming at the rabbit. Kartia was looking forward to stew. They'd been eating too many vegetables lately. A crow cried out overhead, startling the rabbit and causing it to flee.

Kartia looked up and glared at the offending creature. "T'will be your fault we never eat rabbit again, you know," she said sullenly.

The bird chuckled in reply. "Truly? You'll never, ever catch another rabbit, then?" the bird asked, pecking at Katria's light brown hair before flying out of reach.

Kartia crossed her arms and leaned against a tree. "Nay. You have brought the wrath of the gods upon me, surely."

The bird fluttered down, transforming into her human shape as she dropped. Her nude form almost glowed in the early morning sunlight. Kartia rolled her eyes. "Here," she said, handing Nadya a small leather pack with some clothing.

Nadya smiled and slowly put the tattered robes on. It was a light blue tanned jerkin with feathered pauldrons stitched on. "Your stitching is horrible, Kartia," she replied. She looked down and noticed that it barely covered her thighs. "And that is to say nothing of your measurements."

Kartia raised an eyebrow at her friend. "For one who complains so, I would think you would have the foresight by now to carry your own clothes, or transform at home."

Kartia looked away from her friend, glancing about for more rabbit or perhaps a bear. She caught a glance of her reflection in the water and was startled by her own appearance. She could tell by the image that her eyes were a dark blue. Strange. She had remembered them as yellow.

Suddenly the ground tipped away from her and she felt herself floating upwards. She looked down and could see herself, still standing there, talking with Nadya.

It felt as if she was speeding upwards, and the landscape below her was spinning. Her stomach lurched at the sight, and she closed her eyes tight.

"Morrigan, open your eyes, now," a voice demanded her.

On reflex, Morrigan opened her eyes. Flemeth was standing above her, face impassive as ever. "What do you remember?" Flemeth asked.

Morrigan looked down at her hands, struggling to bring up those memories. Everything was fuzzy now. She recalled how real it had seemed, then. But now she couldn't remember who she had been or what she had been doing.

"You must remember!" Flemeth shouted. Morrigan felt the familiar sting of her mother's hand against her cheek and winced. She glared up at Flemeth.

"I cannot remember! T'was all so real but now, I cannot remember!" Morrigan shouted back.

Flemeth smiled. "You remember more than you think, girl. Now concentrate."


	3. Glorious Morning For Battle

_~9:31 Dragon, just after the Fifth Blight has ended~_

Zevran lay in bed, arms wrapped around his lover. He snuggled in closer, pressing his body as close to Maroth's as possible. Maroth chuckled and ran his fingers across Zevran's arm.

"Can't sleep?" Maroth murmured.

Zevran nuzzled his nose against the point of Maroth's ear. "Just grateful you are alive, mi amor," he whispered in return.

Maroth turned over and cupped Zevran's cheek. Slowly, he used his thumb to trace the tattoos that curved around his lover's cheekbone. "I promised I would return to you, and I did. I'll always come for you."

Zevran leaned his head down and kissed him softly. "Let's not tempt our luck and just stay away from any other archdemons, no?"

Maroth smiled and nodded his head, his dark blonde hair falling in his eyes. He pulled Zevran down so that the other man's head was resting on his chest. He wrapped his arms around him and squeezed lightly before closing his eyes.

Zevran listened to the sound of Maroth's heart beat. Thum da bump. Thum da bump. It was a steady, easy rhythm.

As the Zevran was lulled to sleep by the sound, he heard a whispering. A rough voice, muttering in the back of his mind.

The less he tried to focus on it, the more he understood what it was saying.

"Watch the past in your dreams. Be free from the Fade and watch the Memories, elven assassin. See what role you play in the history fate has chosen."

He felt himself drifting. He cautiously opened his eyes and looked around him. He was in a stone fortress. But where? Kinloch Hold. The name sprung to his mind as soon as he asked the question.

He looked at his hands. His fingers were thick and stubby, not long and elegant. He felt momentarily confused before he recalled who he was.

Dalan Ar Dubne O Frosthold. That was his name. Why did he think it was something else?

He ran his hand across his thick, dark brown beard as he sat up in bed. He looked over at his wife as she lay sleeping. Their marriage would be ending soon; he had only managed to untie four knots in the rope on their wedding day. He touched her light blonde hair a moment, wondering where she would go when it was over.

He glanced about his room and stood up. His clan had been settled here for near on four months. It was well past time he moved them further south. If his clan could speak with the Chasind clans in the swamp lands, perhaps his people would have a chance at overtaking the Alamarri. He put on his furs and metal helm and marched out of his home.

Looking around, he spotted his younger brother. "Balak! I need speak with you, my brother," he called out, waving his hand in the man's direction.

Balak nodded and grinned, walking over to his brother. "Ah, 'tis a glorious morning, is it not?" Balak asked, taking a deep breath.

Dalan quirked an eyebrow. "A glorious morning for marching, perhaps," he replied.

"No battle?" Balak pouted.

Dalan shook his head solemnly. "I am sorry, brother, no battle today."

Dalan instructed his brother to bring together the whole of the clan. They would march south, towards the Korcari Wilds. He was the leader of the Frosthold clan. He would bring victory in the battles to come, even if it meant making a pact with the Chasind.


	4. Alistair's Love

_Estimated at around 9:16 Dragon_

Alistair looked at his reflection in the shiny silver armour. It was Templar armour. Alistair sighed and dropped the helm on his bed. He didn't want to be a Templar. He sent a prayer to the Maker that he would find a way out. He believed in the Maker well enough, he just didn't want to spend his whole life chasing mages. He wanted to make his own choices. He wanted freedom.

He plopped down on his bed and kicked the helm to the floor. He stared up at the ceiling and began counting backwards. He needed to practice his meditations. Slowly he counted backwards, starting at one hundred.

Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight. Ninety-seven.

His heartbeat slowed to a gentler rhythm.

Eighty-two. Eighty-one. Eighty.

He focused on his breath, even in and even out.

Seventy-seven. Seventy-six. Seventy-five. Seventy-four.

He felt his eyes drop close and struggled to stay awake. Sleeping wasn't part of the meditation.

Sixty-five. Sixty-two. Fifty-nine. Fifty-eight.

He felt his mind losing hold of its concentration. Strange images floated before his mind. A man with black hair and green eyes. He was covered in strange bits of cloth and fur. He was kissing a woman with light brown hair and dark blue eyes. He felt a tightening in his loins as he realized it was his own arms around her, his own lips pressed against hers. He moaned her name. Kartia.

"Corminth," the woman murmured in return, running her callused hands across his chest.

He groaned and kissed her harder, pinning her against a nearby tree. He tugged at her robes, which came apart easily in his hands.

"Blast it all, wretched stitching," she murmured.

Corminth paused to give her a questioning look. "By the gods, that does not mean 'stop'," Kartia growled.

Corminth grinned and proceeded to trail kisses down her neck and across her pert breasts. Suddenly she shoved him off her and pinned him to the ground. Kartia grinned down and ripped his shirt open. She raked her nails down his chest, causing him to shiver with anticipation and desire.

He reached up, grabbing her by the back of the head, and kissed her fiercely. He twisted his body so that he tumbled Kartia over and onto her back, this time pinning her with his knees. She pulled him down for a kiss and rand her hand across the front of his pants, rubbing him and teasing him with the friction of the cloth.

She bit his lip just hard enough to distract him and turned him on his back again. She smiled and it was full of mischief. He smiled back and closed his eyes as she pulled down his trousers. Her fingertips brushed across his head and he trembled. He moaned as her hand stroked him in a steady up and down motion, only pausing to swirl the palm of her hand across the top.

"Are you ready?" Kartia murmured.

She straddled Corminth and slowly began rocking her hips. She bit her lip and moaned, purposely going slow to tease him. He groaned and grabbed her by the hips.

He looked at her, a strange look that was a mix of frustration and need. "Don't torment me, woman," he growled. She smirked and began going faster, rocking her hips in a quick back and forth motion, until they both reached their climax.

"Templar Recruit Alistair! To your feet, boy!" a very masculine voice shouted from nearby.

Alistair awoke with a start, images of Kartia and their lovemaking fading quickly as he faced the Knight-commander.


	5. Don't Be Sad, Mama

_~Roughly around 9:40 Dragon, during the Breach in the Sky~_

The air smelled of fish chowder and leather. Seagulls cried out as they soared above him. He could smell the saltiness of the ocean from where he stood.

Maroth breathed deeply as he walked along the Antivan shore. Then the light dimmed around him and he could hear people near him screaming. Suddenly, the sky ripped open and he heard the roar of a dragon. He fell to the ground, vision fading as people screamed all around him.

After a brief moment of chaos his ears were met with silence. He stood, cautiously. He opened his eyes and looked around.

Trees reached up to touch the sky. Vines flowed elegantly down from the branches to dance across the water. The smell was musty and damp. He was in the Wilds. He reached his hand up to rub his ear and drew back in shock when he felt the rounded form.

Human? He was human? He stumbled around, confused. Who was he? What was he even doing here? He recalled the face of pale human with dark hair and yellow eyes but as he tried to bring the face into focus... the harder he concentrated the fuzzier the memory got. His name. If he could just remember his name.

"Cahir! Cahir, where have you gotten yourself to?" a voice called from the distance.

Cahir, that was his name! The moment he heard it, his memories came flooding back. He was Cahir. He lived in the Korcari Wilds, in Tombigbee.

Suddenly, a tall woman with fiery red hair popped out from behind a tree. "There you are, Cahir! I have been looking for you for hours! Why must you run off so?"

Cahir smiled up at the woman. "Hello, mama!" he said.

The woman scowled down at the boy. "Don't you 'hello, mama" me, boy. Where have you been?"

Cahir grinned mischievously. "I'm thirteen winters, mama. Aren't I old enough to explore?"

His mother sighed in frustration. "Well, I suppose you inherited that from me. I just do not know what I would do if you ran into a wolf or worse."

Cahir grabbed his mother's hand. "Don't be sad, mama. I won't run off, again. I promise!"

She grinned down at her son. "Well, that isn't a very likely promise, is it? Come on, we should head back to Tombigbee. Your grandfather wishes to see you."

Together, mother and son walked through the swampy lands of the Korcari Wilds. Tombigbee was a secret city, known only to the Chasind people. The houses were tall, built on stilts because of the wet land they were crafted on.

When they reached the house located in the center of the village, Cahir let go of his mother's hand. "Hello, grandfather," he mumbled bashfully. His grandfather was an important man in the village. He was their head Shaman and leader.

"Cahir. I hear you are off running about the Wilds again, is this true?" the man asked, his voice deep and gravelly.

Cahir ducked his head, ashamed. "I'm sorry, Grandfather."

His grandfather smiled down at him. "Ah, you have a wild spirit. Just be more cautious, for your mother's sake."

Cahir glanced back at his mother. He took in the way her face was pinched in worry. It was starting to cause wrinkles to form at the corner of her eyes, how often she looked at him with that expression.

He sighed. "Yes, Grandfather."

Shaman Stoyan shook his head at his grandson. "Come, now, both of you. We have a long journey ahead of us."


	6. War Meeting

_~Sometime during the Ancient Age, after the First Blight.~_

Nadya sat between her son and father inside a hut several miles from Tombigbee. Across from them, two Avvar men sat. The leader had short brown hair and a thick beard on his face. His eyes looked almost black. His brother had lighter eyes, a soft gray. His chocolate brown hair was longer too, reaching his shoulders even when pulled back in a ponytail.

Nadya had an eerie feeling she had seen him before, many years ago. She listened as the men explained that they wanted to make war on the Alamarri clans, drive them out of the valley. Nadya shook her head at their foolish words.

She glanced over at her father before speaking. "It would yield no gain to rage a war on a people who are content to let us live our lives in peace. The Chasind are not a war-like or barbaric people."

Balak Ar Dubne O Frosthold glared across the meeting table at the red headed woman with light blue eyes. "Are you calling the Avvar barbaric?" he growled.

Nadya turned her cold gaze directly on him. "I meant no offense, of course. If offense was taken then perhaps you see the wisdom in my words against war with Alamarri?"

Dalan raised an eyebrow at the group. "So, do I take it to mean you would side with the Alamarri against the Avvar then?"

Cahir glared at the man but held his tongue. He knew he was only here to learn from his mother and grandfather.

Nadya shook her head. "Nay, 'tis not the way at all. We would side with neither the Alamarri nor the Avvar. We have no desire for war, friend."

Balak stood and slammed his hands down on the table. "Shaman Stoyan, you must see the wisdom in allying with the Avvar! For if we march on the Alamarri, surely you must know where we conquer next."

Nadya looked at her father and waited for him to reply. Shaman Stoyan paused to consider before responding. "Even if you were somehow successful, your troops would be diminished to the point of no longer being a threat. Or perhaps you will lose and the Alamarri will be thankful we did not assist you in your foolish mission to conquer more land."

Nadya smiled; pleased her father favored the peaceful approach. She followed his lead as he got to his feet and left without further word. "I will follow shortly, Father. Please take Cahir with you. There are some herbs I must collect that run wild in this area of the swamps."

Stoyan nodded his head and lead Cahir away by the shoulder. Nadya rubbed her brow as she watched them walk away and quickly began gathering the herb she was looking for- : a white flower with a bright red center. It was useful in many healing remedies and could be used to barter with other clans.

"The Chasind are foolish to ignore the coming war," a voice spoke from behind her. She spun around in shock, dropping the flowers she had collected.

She scowled at the man before her. "Oh, 'tis you. If you have come to change my mind, you are wasting your time."

He glared back at her, causing a shiver to run down her spine. "My name is Balak Ar Dubne O Frosthold. I am the leader of my brother's armies. He is the Shaman warrior Dalan Ar Dubne O Frosthold. I come to ask you to sway your father to ally with the Frosthold clan of the Avvar people." The words came out clipped and forced, like he had rehearsed the speech.

Nadya scoffed. "There is nothing you can do that will change my mind, barbarian. Now be gone from the Wilds, you are no longer welcome here."

Balak growled low. "The Avvar will win this war and the Chasind will regret having denied us their support," he replied.

"And you will regret threatening my friend, barbarian," a voice whispered from the shadows.

Kartia stepped into the light, glaring at the Avvar with her bow aimed at his weakest point. The man glared a moment before slowly backing away. After he was gone, Nadya turned to look at her friend. "Do you think he may be right?" she asked.

Kartia shrugged. "'Tis not my place to know. I am no shaman," she replied. "Come, we should head far away from these two. 'Tis not safe for you to be caught unawares, again."


	7. The Barbarian and the Shaman

_~Sometime during the Ancient Age, after the First Blight.~_

Kartia peeked through the leaves of the weeping willow. The Avvar had yet to declare war on the Chasind but they had not yet left the Wilds, either.

She watched the warrior, Balak, as he pissed in the swamp water. She crinkled her nose in disgust and waited. A cramp was starting to form in thighs as calves as she bent low behind her tree. Flies buzzed around her face but she continued to stay as still as possible, keeping even her breaths slow and gentle. Balak continued to shuffle around the large encampment.

Dalan had set up the Avvar camp on the edges on the Wilds. Luckily, their scouts had not found Tombigbee. If they had, Kartia and the others would have been forced to kill them. The Avvar barbarians needed no further cause for their petty war.

Kartia furrowed brow in concern as her thoughts turned to Nadya. At first, Nadya had been firmly against going to war. Now, she seemed unsure. She had doubts where before there had been nothing but certainty. And those doubts were something Kartia just didn't understand.

The rogue watched as Balak grabbed his sword and snuck away. She followed behind him, keeping enough distance as to stay unnoticed.

As she watched him, she noticed him checking the trees with notches. Like a secret code, he followed the different sized notches through the Wilds. Only a Chasind would know the Wilds well enough to lead Balak in such a fashion. Did they have a traitor in their midst? Kartia held back an angry growl as she watched the barbarian lean casually against a tree. He chewed on a small piece of twig as he waited, toe tapping impatiently.

Kartia covered her mouth in surprise. Nadya had just slipped through the trees and was standing before Balak, blushing like young maidan.

"I see you have found the spot well," Nadya muttered, tucking a strand of her red hair behind her ear.

Balak frowned and nodded his head. "Yes, your markings were easy enough to follow."

Nadya took a hesitant step forward, still blushing. "I thought of what you said. About defeating the Alamarri as a united force. I can see some wisdom in your words."

"Good. Then you will convince your people to march beside the Avvar," Balak stated firmly.

Kartia bristled at the words she heard. She could not believe Nadya would consider going to war!

Nadya wrung her hands. "War would mean sending our sons into battle. I would druther see peace confirmed between all our people."

Balak snorted loudly. "There can be no peace. War is inevitable."

Kartia watched, stunned, as Nadya slowly nodded her head. "Yes, I can see this. I will... speak with my father on it."

Balak jerked his head in an abrupt up and down motion and pushed away from the tree. "Good. I- am relieved to hear this. I did not look forward to battling your people."

Nadya gave a slow smile and looked up into Balak's eyes. "You were concerned for my people?" she murmured.

Balak grunted "I would not use the word "concerned"," he replied, deadpan.

"Oh? What word would you use, then?" Nadya asked with a chuckled, casually stepping a bit closer.

Balak raised an eyebrow at the Shaman. "Are you flirting with me, Chasind?"

Nadya blushed beet red. "Should I not have been?" she fired back, daringly.

Kartia smirked, watching the two. She wrestled with feeling angry at Nadya's betrayal and humoured at her failed attempt at flirting with the barbarian.

Balak stepped closer, brow furrowed. "And what would you do if I followed the Avvar way of courting?" he growled.

"What is the Avvar way?" Nadya asked. Her bright green eyes sparkled with curiosity.

Balak grinned. "We kidnap our brides, with the permission of their clan."

Nadya's eyes widened. Kartia felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. The Chasind arranged their marriages as well, but nothing as barbaric as kidnapping.

Balak stared down at the Chasind shaman. "You do not approve of our traditions?" he asked, judging her facial expression.

Nadya gulped. "'Tis not that, exactly. If I was not desirous of such a marriage, it would be a simple matter of killing you. I would worry more about leaving my son behind."

Balak's mouth fell open in shock. "You think killing me would be so easy?"

"Do not feel offense. I am sure you are a warrior of some renown amongst your people but I am the shaman daughter of the Shaman Stoyan of the Tombigbee Clan."

Balak scoffed. "Are you such a fool as to think your magic can stand against my might?"

Nadya smiled pityingly at the big warrior. "'Tis a hard truth, I know."

Kartia smirked at her friend's response, pleased with direction of the conversation. The further apart Nadya and Balak were, the less chance of war.

Balak growled and grabbed Nadya by the shoulders. "I am Balak Ar Dubne O Frosthold. Do not doubt my prowess!" he rumbled.

Nadya blushed again and stared into the warrior's eyes. She licked her lips and noticed how his eyes followed the motion. "Such aggression," she murmured huskily. She ran her hands across his open shirt.

As she stepped closer, Nadya could smell the combination of the musky scent of the furs he wore. She crinkled her nose slightly at the unfamiliar smell. It was strange, and new, and she sniffed.

Balak scowled down at her. "What are you doing?" he demanded to know.

Nadya tilted her head and sniffed again. The musky scent was growing on her the closer she stood to him. "You smell odd," she replied idly, staring at a patch of his chest hair.

"And you stink of strange leathers and swamps," he grunted.

Nadya threw her head back and laughed. The sound was loud and echoed off the trees. Kartia shook her head, confused. She couldn't tell if they hated each other or not.

Balak frowned, staring down at the laughing woman in his arms. The sound of her laughter made him feel strange. He didn't like it. So, to stop the sound, he pressed his lips to hers. Or at least, that is what he told himself as he kissed her.

Her eyes widened before closing. She grabbed hold of the odd smelling furs and pressed her body close to his. His hands were in her hair, gripping tight. She moaned and rubbed herself against him. Hot bolts of desire ran coursed through her body, burning her up.

She had never felt this kind of desire for her husband. This, this was something more. Something she couldn't stop. Worse, it was something she didn't want to stop.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled back sharply as a thuwmp sounded nearby. Face flushed, she looked around.

"There. An arrow," Balak said, slightly winded from their kissing. Nadya pulled back from Balak's embrace as she took in the familiar feathers on the end of the arrow. Kartia.

Nadya's eyes darted around but she knew she wouldn't see anything. If Kartia wished to remain hidden, she would. And not even Nadya could find her.


	8. Remembering What is Best Left Forgotten

_~Sometime during the Ancient Age, after the First Blight.~_

"How could you do this to your people? Why should we go to war because of your- your foolish infatuation with that barbarian?" Kartia whispered furiously.

They were about a mile from Tombigbee, and arguing in hushed voices.

"'Tis not about Balak. If we stay neutral, than whichever side wins will be angry we did not assist them. We must choose," Nadya replied calmly.

Kartia glared at her friend. "Did you decide this whilst climbing over him like a maiden never before kissed?"

Nadya blushed. "T'was no more than I caught you doing with Corminth a time or two. By the gods, Kartia, Corminth is mated!"

"'Tis not the same," Kartia muttered.

Nayda rolled her eyes. "'Tis exactly the same, fool girl. And if you would calm yourself, you would see the wisdom in my words."

Kartia looked up and locked her deep blue eyes with Nadya's. "About Corminth or the war?" she asked.

Nadya smiled. "Both."

Kartia scowled. "There is no wisdom in war. You believed in that once. You stood behind it. Now, you stand for nothing," she replied softly.

Nadya reached her hand out, but Kartia had already turned away.

Morrigan opened her eyes slowly, and caught sight of her Mother's face nearby. Today was her seventeenth birthday but her mother had forgotten.

"Do you remember the vision, this time?" Flemeth asked coldly.

Morrigan nodded, suppressing the urge to yawn. She had learned at an early age that t'was not wise to show such a sign of disinterest in front of her mother. "Yes, mother, I remembered this one as well," she drawled idly.

Flemeth grinned. "Good."

Morrigan glanced at her mother before continuing. "Who is Corminth? I have not dreamt of him before, have I?" she asked cautiously. Her mother always hated questions.

Flemeth's eyes bulged and Morrigan mentally prepared herself in case her mother was truly angry. "Was your vision of him?" Flemeth asked.

Morrigan shook her head. "No. T'was just his name."

Flemeth leaned back wearily. "I am too old for this," she groused. Morrigan rolled her eyes, used to this sort of strange behaviour. "Corminth is of no importance to you. Go entertain yourself somehow. Mother needs the hut to herself, child," Flemeth muttered.

After Morrigan had left, Flemeth stalked the small hut in an angry line. She wasn't supposed to remember! The spell was held by the bonds of blood. But even blood weakened over time. Flemeth smiled to herself. She would just have to pay him a visit, then, and bind the spell the second time.


	9. Blood and Memories

_Estimated at around 9:17 Dragon_

Alistair could sense he wasn't alone. He should be. It was late. Everyone had gone to bed hours ago. He kept his eyes shut as he tried to feel the area with his senses.

"Foolish lad. Open your eyes and face what you fear instead of quivering like a frightened rabbit," a cold voice spoke from the shadows.

Alistair felt his eyes open, almost against his will. He shivered; a woman stepped forward and the moonlight shone on her silver hair. "Wh-who are you?" Alistair stammered.

"I go by many names, lad. None of which concern you now. You have something of mine." The woman stared down at him with menacing eyes. They were like yellow pinpricks in the darkness and Alistair subconsciously pulled his blanket closer to him.

"I-i don't have anything of yours," he muttered.

Flemeth ran one her long fingernails across her chin. "She is remembering you. A tiny thread is still connecting you, somehow. I can't have that. I need my Morrigan focused," she murmured. Alistair couldn't tell if she was thinking out loud or talking to him.

Flemeth looked down at the boy again. "Such a small thread. Strange how it works. The tiniest hint of lingering memory from ages past could undo all I have planned. I will wipe her from your memory. Don't worry, you won't remember any of this." Flemeth took a few steps closer to Alistair.

In his panic, he sent out a minor Smite spell he had learned recently. Flemeth stopped in her tracks and cackled. "You mean to stop _me_? Don't be foolish. I am only taking something you won't even miss. A lingering sense of familiarity with a woman you can no longer have. It will be easier this way, I promise."

Alistair had the feeling the witch was lying to him. It would only be easier for her, not for anyone else. Not for him and certainly not for this Morrigan, either. As he thought the name 'Morrigan' another name came to mind. _Kartia._ He whispered the name and a feeling that he needed to protect this girl, whatever name she went by, flooded his entire being.

Flemeth glared down at him and he shrunk back in fear. "She is mine. That was our bargain!" The words had a strange sound to them, as if the words themselves hummed with ancient magic. His head filled with the sounds of roaring dragons. He felt himself spinning out of control, spiraling down. His entire vision went white. There was silence and then he felt his knees hit the ground.

"What is it you think I can do for you, lad?" a deep voice murmured.

Corminth looked up at the infamous Witch of the Wilds. "Please, you know powerful magic. You could heal what ails my Kartia!"

Flemeth sneered. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I love her!"

"And what does your love have to do with me?"

Corminth's eyes widened in fear. "Please, I shall give you anything you desire! My spirit, my life. Anything you demand!"

Flemeth paused for a moment. She peered out at the Wilds but Cominth got the feeling she wasn't really looking at the swamps. "Is it fate or chance? I can never decide. I think I will have use of your Kartia, during a time that will have forgotten your names. But I will need a focused mageling I can bend to my will, not some eager love-sick fool."

"I-i do not understand," Corminth replied hesitantly.

Flemeth laughed and it caused a chill down Corminth's spine. "Of course not. You do not need to."

"Then, you will heal Kartia?" he asked.

Flemeth smiled unpleasantly. "Yes. But I will need a drop of your blood and hers."

Corminth startled. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Blood? W-why do you need our blood?"

The witch didn't answer him. She just looked down her nose at him, her bright yellow eyes piercing through to his soul. Corminth gulped. "I will bring it to you, as you ask."

Flemeth leered. "Then be gone. Once I have what I require, Kartia will be healed in a fortnight."

The witch watched as the Chasind warrior dashed off into the Wilds. He didn't know it yet, but that simpering idiot would one day play a very important role in Ferelden's history. 9:30 Dragon. A Ferelden blight. It was coming. She knew it. And Kartia would help her to stop it.

And it would succeed, so long as Kartia never fell to the weakness of love. So, Flemeth would remove all memories of each other from their minds. Ages into the future, they would have no lingering strands connecting them. No love to weaken them and keep them from their goals.

Flemeth smiled to herself. Fate had a way with going just the way she wanted it to.


	10. A Warning

*~*~Set in est. 9:40 Dragon, A week before the Breach in the Sky.~*~*

Nathaniel stood across the table from a strange woman dressed in feathers and tattered cloth. Her frame was slender and her skin was deathly pale. Her bright yellow eyes stood out in stark contrast to her dark hair. Her hair was up in a messy knot with thick clumps falling around her face.

Nathaniel regarded her closely for a moment. She had said her name was Morrigan. Nathaniel remembered Ely telling him about the apostate from the Wilds that had helped her defeat the blight. "Ely called you friend. I suppose that alone gives me call to listen to what you have to say." Nathaniel finally responded. He sat down in the hard wooden chair and beckoned for her to do the same.

Morrigan continued standing and stared down her nose at Nathaniel. "I am not here for an idle visit, fool. I am here to give you a warning."

Nathaniel's jaw dropped in shock before he let out a short bark of laughter. "Well, it's no wonder how you befriended my Ely. You two have a knack for being blunt. Fine, what warning do you bring, Milady?" Nathaniel asked, a glint of humour in his eyes.

Morrigan rolled her eyes in disgust. She couldn't believe this was the same man as the one from her visions. Balak had been a proud warrior and didn't have this absurd habit of flirting. His only flaw being he was from an opposing clan. It had been foolish of Nadya to risk so much for him. It was even more foolish now. "There is little I can tell you. You must not tell Eilonwy you have spoken with me. Keep her from the peace talk between the Templars and the mages. If she goes, she will not return."

Nathaniel's eyebrows flew into his hairline in surprise. He stood up and ran his fingers through his long brown hair. "Shit. And I can give no warning to anyone?"

Morrigan shook her head. "No one but Eilonwy."

Nathaniel regarded the witch closely. "Why? Why, if no one can know, are you having me warn Ely? Why not tell her yourself or... Or try to stop it?" he asked.

She snorted. "I cannot stop Fate from unfolding," Morrigan said with contempt. "'Tis no time for such foolish questions. Eilonwy is stubborn. T'will be no easy task convincing her."

Nathaniel grunted. "I don't need you to tell me that," he replied. He sighed and sat back down. "Fate. You say it like it's a real thing, and not just romantic bullshit the bards use in their songs."

Morrigan scoffed and crossed her arms. "Of course 'tis a real thing. Eilonwy has an important role to play in what is to come. You must keep her alive to do it, lad."

He nodded his head slowly, the witch's words made sense. "Yes. I'll talk to her right away." He was staring down at the table and didn't notice that Morrigan's eyes were glowing with magic in the lamplight.

He stood and walked out the room, going in search of Eilonwy. The witch cackled to herself and transformed back into the normal human form she took. Flemeth smiled to herself as she stared out the doorway Nathaniel Howe had just walked through. All was going to plan. Fate was moving along just as she had planned.


	11. According To Plan

_~Set sometime during the Ancient Age, after the First Blight~_

Kartia felt the anger inside her at Nadya's betrayal. She walked through the Wilds, not really paying attention to where she was walking. Her heart was racing. Her thoughts came quickly and all at once. Should she be angry or should she trust Nadya's wisdom?

She knew it was foolish to argue with a Shaman. One day, Nadya would lead their people. Kartia sighed and stopped walking, leaning against a tree. She ran her fingers through her hair and frowned as her thoughts continued to race in circles.

"You should not wonder the Wilds alone," A voice said from the shadows.

Kartia spun around quickly, hand reaching for her bow as she moved. She had the bow out and pointed before she recognized the man standing there.

It was Dalan, Shaman Warrior of the Avvar. Kartia narrowed her eyes. "Why are your people still here? The Avvar are not welcome in the Wilds!" Kartia responded, heat in her voice.

Dalan smirked. "My brother seems very welcome here," he replied calmly.

Kartia glared. "You planned this!" she growled.

He chuckled softly. "Nay. I am merely taking advantage of a perfect opportunity."

"The Chasind will never fight for the Avvar!" Kartia growled and let lose an arrow.

Dalan let out a laugh. Fire lept from his fingertips, turning the arrow to ashes before it reached him. "Now, now, we can't have any of that." He smiled and grabbed some powder from his pouch. He blew it in her directions and whispered word of magic.

The dust caught Kartia in the face, filling her nose and lungs with the horrible stuff. It burned her throat. Her eyes watered and she cried out as she fell to the floor. She began coughing, blood trickling out her mouth.

Dalan walked over and stood over the Chasind archer. He looked down at her with pity in his eyes. "You will die in three weeks I am sorry you had to die. But I could not allow for you to interfere in my plans. It will be a painful death and it will not be quick." He paused and stroked his beard a moment. " Perhaps I was too hasty in my method for killing you. But this way, no one will suspect Avvar involvement."

Kartia looked up at Dalan with hatred in her eyes. She struggled to speak but every time she tried she would start coughing again.

Dalan raised an eyebrow. "You are trying to speak? That would be a waste. There was a silencing spell mixed in with that poison." He sat down and leaned his back against the tree. "You will fall unconscious soon. I will bring you to your Shaman and claimed I found you. The Chasind will fight for the Avvar, you will see."

Kartia could feel her stomach turning. She spat up some blood and struggled to stand. Her arms could not lift her torso off the ground and she fell back down. Dalan tsked over her and told her to lay still. She could feel the blades of grass against her cheek as she lay there, helpless. Her body was weak. She could feel her eyelids closing.

Her consciousness slowly faded away. Dalan looked down at the girl. He touched her hair and frowned. He hadn't wanted things to go this way, but the girl had been too stubborn. He was the leader of his people and he had a war to win. He could not fail them.


	12. As I Lay Dying

_~Set sometime during the Ancient Age, after the First Blight~_

Kartia lay prone in her bed. She was consumed by a fever that even the Shamans were mystified by. Nadya hadn't slept in days, using all her strength to try and cure her friend.

Kartia could hear Nadya chanting spells and conjuring mana. She could see the way her brow was furrowed with frustration, concentration, and concern. She could smell the burning incense and the ever present smell of the swamps. She knew everything that was happening around her but she could do nothing.

She could not speak. She could not move. She was completely paralyzed. Whatever was in the poison had immobilized her.

It had been a week and a half since Dalan Ar Dubne O Frosthold had poisoned her. She regretted so much, now that she knew she was about to die.

"I failed you, Kartia," Nadya murmured, smoothing away a sweat soaked strand of hair from her friend's forehead. "I am so sorry, my dearest friend."

Kartia felt a tear trickle down her face and could do nothing to stop it. It was true. Not only had Nadya's magic failed to save her, it had been Nadya's foolish insistence in following her desires rather than logic that had driven Kartia into the Wilds alone. If Nadya had not agreed to war with the barbaric Avvars, Dalan would not have felt the need to end her life. Kartia could feel the resentment growing inside her like a festering wound. It twisted her heart and her memories of Nadya.

As she lay there, dying, she didn't remember the times they had played together as children. The hunts they had been on together. The bond they shared. The only memory she replayed in hr mind was seeing Nadya with the enemy. The betrayal. The anger.

It wasn't fair. She wasn't supposed to die this young. She didn't want to die. All she had ever desired was to live a simple life with Corminth in Tombigbee. First the gods had taken Corminth from her. Now, they were taking her life. Maybe this was Fate.

She heard footsteps and saw Nadya turn her head. "Come in, my son," Nadya said, her voice it's usual calm and even self.

She watched as Cahir walked hesitantly up to Kartia's bedside. His eyes were red, like he had been crying. He opened his mouth as if to speak but no words came out. Instead he quickly reach out and embraced her. When he let go, he turned and ran outside, unable to handle his own sadness.

She cursed the Avvar for coming in and destroying their lives. She cursed Fate and even the gods. What did it matter? She was to die, anyway. So she cursed them all and felt no regret or shame.

A shadow crossed in front of her vision. Corminth knelt over her, face streaked with tears. He touched her face gently, and she wept silently with him. "I will find a way to save you, 'tis a promise, my love," he whispered in her ear. She felt his lips press against her cheek and he was gone. She could hear him arguing with Nadya across the room.

"'Tis a fools mission, Corminth!" Nadya protested.

Kartia knew Corminth was probably glaring at Nadya. "'Tis not a fools mission! I will find the Witch of the Wilds and I will save Kartia like you have failed to do, Shaman," he growled.

Kartia wished she could move. It was suicide to seek out Flemeth. He had promised her he would never... She felt the cold sense of fear envelop her entire body. He would die. He would seek out and surely find the Witch. And if the stories were true, her beloved would quickly be sacrificed at the altar of Flemeth's whims. The legends of the dreaded Witch told of both her beauty and of her madness. Kartia struggled furiously against the invisible binds that held but it was impossible to move. She strained with all of her will but her body would not respond. Her vocal cords would not open to call out a warning, and plea for Corminth not to go.

Her mind began to snap as the futility of her struggle hit her. There was no amount of will she could exert to break this bond. Not only would she die, but so would Corminth. Because of Nadya. Because of the Avvar.


	13. Memories That Bind Us

_~Set sometime during the Ancient Age, after the First Blight~_

Corminth sighed as he walked towards Nadya's home. It was where Kartia had been since she had fallen ill. It had only been four days since the Witch had promised to heal his Kartia. He still had so long to wait. But he would spend every moment of it by her side while he still could.

As he approached the hut, he heard a scream. He quickened his steps, rushing into the hut without knocking. What he saw surprised him. Kartia was on her feet. There was a bright rosy colour to her cheeks and her eyes sparkled with anger. A knife was in her hand. Her hand was pointed at Nadya's throat. Nadya's eyes darted around nervously. "Wh-what are you doing, my friend?" Nadya muttered.

Corminth took a step towards them, not sure what to do. "Kartia!"

Kartia didn't spare him a glance. "You are the warrior Corminth, yes?" she asked.

Corminth had forgotten. Kartia would never remember their time together. She had been made to forget their love. "Yes, I am," he replied, hiding the sadness in his voice.

Kartia nodded curtly. "This woman has made a deal with a demon. We must slay her," she said, and her voice trembled only slightly as she spoke.

Corminth's eyes widened. "It can not be true. Nadya is a powerful Shaman. No demon could have forced his will upon her!"

A tear trickled dwn Kartia's cheek. "It did not force itself upon her. She sought it out to heal me."

Corminth was stunned. He could not believe what he was hearing. Nadya had always been a cautious person, especially when it came to using her magic. She was wise. The realization that Nadya must have cared for his Kartia as deeply as he did was followed by the realization that he had never needed to make that deal with Flemeth. He had not needed to trade their love for her life.

Nadya's eyes glowed blue. "Tis not a demon I have bonded with. 'Tis a spirit of Healing," she whispered softly.

Kartia felt the panic inside her intensify when she saw the blue glow in her friend's eyes. She cried out in fear and dashed forward. Her blade ripped through Nadya's throat.

"Kar..ti...a.." The word came out garbled as blood bubbled out of her mouth.

Kartia fell to her knees. All the anger she had felt at Nadya's betrayal left her as she watched Nadya die. She had been willing to sacrifice herself so that Kartia would live. The words Nadya had whispered before slipping into the Fade repeated themselves in Kartia's mind.

_"I will not fail you, Kartia. I will save you and I will renounce my support of the Avvar. Just hold on a little longer, my friend."_

Flemeth frowned as she stared into the fire where the images of that memory from long ago danced in the flames. It was the final memory, the one Corminth and Kartia had clung to, even throughout the ages. That final memory of Nadya's death. It was the last tie that bonded them together. She waved her hand towards the fire and plucked Corminth from the memory.

Morrigan would know of Kartia and her friendship with Nadya. And she would know of the betrayal. But she would not know of Nadya's sacrifice or Corminth's deal. Flemeth smiled as she played with the memories of time. A small twist here and there, changing only the smallest of details. If Morrigan believed her previous self to have died because of Nadya, she would not likely bond with her current incarnation. She did not want Morrigan forming bonds of any sort. It was too dangerous.

Corminth, however, was a different thing entirely. She had no need for him to remember his role as a Chasind Warrior. She sighed. It was shame he was needed at all. But the blood of a Theirin was important indeed and could not be so casually tossed aside.

Morrigan flew down to meet her mother. "You are not trying to cook again, I hope. You always burn everything," she quipped.

Flemeth rolled her eyes and looked up at her daughter in crow form. "Your magic is much improving I see. Good. Now, shift back and cook us supper. Mother is hungry."

Morrigan shifted back, her clothes reappearing as well. It was a small, but useful, bit of magic her mother had taught her. How to bring small items into materialization. It was a long forgotten art, and most likely banned by the fools of the Chantry. Morrigan delighted in using it as often as possible but was often scolded not too waste her mana foolishly.

Morrigan watched as her mother went back inside. Then, she glanced into the fire. For a moment, she thought she saw a pair of golden eyes staring up at her with a achingly familiar smile. It was there for but a moment before it vanished. Morrigan shook her head and began cooking. She had obviously used up too much mana and now, with exhaustion kicking in, her eyes were playing tricks on her. It was best left forgotten, a voice seemed to whisper to her. And she obeyed.


	14. A Child's Grief

_~Set sometime during the Ancient Age, after the First Blight~_

Cahir felt the ground sink beneath his feet. His whole world was slipping away from him. He couldn't hear anything. He could see Kartia's lips moving but the sound didn't reach his ears. He stared down at his mother in horror. She was on the ground, covered in her own blood.

Kartia grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, trying to gain his attention. He looked at her hands, stained red. "You killed my mother," he mumbled, still in shock.

Kartia winced. "I am sorry, Cahir. The creature I slew was not your mother."

Cahir shook his head back and forth slowly. He sank to his knees and reach for his mother. He gripped the fabric of her dress and the rough texture pricked his skin. Tears rushed down his cheeks as he pulled his mother close. He shouted at her to wake up. That she wasn't supposed to leave him. He felt someone pulling on his arms but he shoved them away. He didn't want false comforts. He wanted his mother back.

He let out a scream as tears and snot rolled down his chin. He gripped his mother's arms so hard that bruises would have formed, had she been alive.

Maroth awoke with a start. The tears were still wet on his cheeks. He reached for Zevran and felt him sleeping soundly. Maroth roughly brushed away the tears, confused. He must have had a horrible dream, but whatever it was about was forgotten the moment he woke up. He sighed and settled back down on the bed. He wrapped his arms around his love and buried his nose in Zev's hair.

He let Zevran's warmth calm him and lull him back to sleep, praying to the Maker and the Creators that he would sleep well through the night, this time.


	15. 9:30 Dragon, A Fereldan Blight

_~Set in 9:30 Dragon, before the fateful Battle at Ostagar at the start of the Fifth Blight~_

Morrigan watched from above as the short warrior walked through the Wilds alone. Foolish girl. Morrigan noticed darkspawn to the girl's left. The girl who used to be Nadya didn't notice them.

Morrigan rolled her eyes and flew over to where the darkspawn were. She let out a loud cry and then flew higher. She watched with dismay as Eilonwy was trapped by a cone of cold. She was tempted to shift to wolf form and assist the girl. Her mother had insisted Eilonwy was needed for their mission so Morrigan would do what she could to protect the foolish girl.

Quite suddenly the rest of the girl's companions caught up with her. Morrigan breathed a sigh of relief through her beak. T'was not time to reveal herself, yet. She watched as a man with blonde hair shouted at her. She took in his high cheekbones and golden eyes. A burning hatred ran though her body as she looked at him. There was no reason she could claim, she just knew she hated this man beyond anyone else she had ever met.

She frowned, or at least the best she could in crow form which basically meant shuffling her feathers and clucking her beak. She watched as the small party continued to make their way through the Wilds. Sometimes the weaselly looking man with the bow would start to chatter but often trailing off into silence when his quite and more stoic companions would ignore him.

Morrigan shifted back into human form behind the crumbling wall of a part of the old tower ruins. They were almost here. Soon, she would meet the people her mother had been speaking of. She would meet her future travelling companions. She scoffed and rolled her eyes at the concept.

She remembered the last memory her mother had showed her. Nadya, betraying her and her people. She could still feel Kartia's anger like it was her own. But Morrigan was practical. She knew it would be foolish to take revenge for a girl who died several ages past. She needed to convince Eilonwy that she was someone to be trusted. And much was at stake if her Mother's plan failed.

She slowly walked down the stone steps, towards Eilonwy and the others. She tried to ignore the blonde hair man and the irrational anger he caused inside her.

Alistair watched the woman with caution. "Careful, she looks Chasind. There might be others nearby," he mumbled. He wasn't really sure why he had said that. She looked nothing like a Chasind. His vision swam for a moment and the image of a different woman came to mind. Dragons roared angrily in his brain./p  
p style="text-align: left;"He blinked twice, trying to focus on the conversation. What had just been happening? He wasn't sure. A girl had walked down from the stairs. That's right. She was... she was... a chas... a mage. That's right. He had realized she was a mage and she had probably hit him with a confusion spell. Right now, she was giggling. "I like you," she said to Eilonwy.

"Careful," Alistair warned. "First it's "I like you!" and the zap! frog time."

He watched the witch roll her eyes and scoff. "What an insipid little man," she replied.

Alistair glared at the woman before him. He hated her. He looked into her yellow eyes and wondered at how he could have thought her beautiful, for even a second. She wasn't beautiful. She was evil.

Flemeth smiled to herself as she watched the events unfold in her magical fire. It was all going according to plan. Exactly as Fate decided. Flemeth chuckled low to herself as she watched Morrigan lead them through the Wilds and towards her hut. Soon. It would all begin soon.

* * *

Well, tis done! The events that take place in this chapter actually coincide with the events that take place in The Way It Now Is. And the crow that warned Ely? It was always Morrigan. Hope you enjoyed! Please, tell me what you think!


End file.
